


The Bucket List

by Z A Dusk (snakeandmoon)



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aziraphale and Crowley in Love (Good Omens), Crowley Has Chronic Pain (Good Omens), Deals With The Devil, First Kiss, First Time, Frottage, Getting Together, Hell is Terrible (Good Omens), M/M, Mutual Pining, Pining, Post-Canon, Rimming, Sex with Snake Form Crowley (Good Omens), Snake Crowley (Good Omens), he's a snake for the entire fic, or at least deals with beelzebub, tbc all the sex is with snake form crowley
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-13
Updated: 2021-01-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 11:42:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28724565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/snakeandmoon/pseuds/Z%20A%20Dusk
Summary: Hell finds a way to punish Crowley for failing to bring about Armageddon. He must choose between giving up his human corporation, or putting Aziraphale in danger.Devastated, Crowley thinks he has to give up all hope of a more romantic relationship with his angel. But love runs deeper than the corporation he wears. Will Crowley find the courage to tell Aziraphale how he really feels? And how will they both adjust to Crowley's new situation?
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 45
Kudos: 158
Collections: Top Crowley Library





	The Bucket List

**Author's Note:**

  * For [HolyCatsAndRabbits](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolyCatsAndRabbits/gifts).



> A gift for [ HolyCatsAndRabbits](https://archiveofourown.org/users/HolyCatsAndRabbits) as a thank you for all the lovely supportive comments on my snakey fics, and for sharing your wonderful writing with the fandom.

**Hell, A Week After The Trials**

“What’zzz it to be, traitor? My patience wearzzz thin.”

The dark amusement in Beelzebub’s voice made Crowley’s hackles rise. They’d finally got one over on him, and they knew it. Crowley knew it too. 

“Fine. Take my human corporation. But I need an ironclad guarantee that he’ll be safe.”

Beelzebub looked like they would merely scoff, but then a look that Crowley might almost call worry flickered in their eyes. They’d thought they were outsmarting him. It had been less than a week since their trials, and Hell had invoked the clause in his contract that stated if he failed to further the cause of Armageddon, Hell could take something from him that he loved.

Unfortunately for them, they’d forgotten that Crowley invented small print, and so the contract stated that they had to give him a choice between two things he loved, and guarantee the safety of the thing he chose to keep. Still, Crowley wanted more assurance. He wasn’t taking a single chance where his angel was concerned. 

Beelzebub rolled their eyes. “You may write the contract yourself, and I will sign it in blood.”

That ought to do it. Crowley wrote a succinct clause - he knew the more complex he made it, the easier it would be for Hell to pick a loophole. He kept it simple and to the point: Hell would not hurt or distress Aziraphale in any way or by any means, direct or indirect, for the rest of eternity.

Then he stood up to face Beelzebub, defiant and refusing to show any emotion. Though he did cast one quick glance at his hands, with their long fingers that seemed made to twine through snowlight curls and caress the soft curve of a cheek. Six thousand years of wanting to touch the angel and now they were finally free, he had to give up the means to do so, in order to keep Aziraphale safe.

Crowley’s bitterness was as chilly as the sharp autumn air as he slithered back onto the London Street and made his way to Mayfair. He’d have to face Aziraphale sooner or later. What else was he going to do, ignore him for eternity? An actual bath in holy water would be preferable to that. But he needed a moment.

* * *

**Mayfair, That Evening (October)**

The knocking at the door was polite, yet somehow insistent. And it had been going on for at least five minutes.

“Come in angel, for crying out loud.”

Aziraphale stepped gingerly into the flat, and immediately stopped and stared at Crowley with a concerned expression that Crowley longed to take away. Though he suspected the information he was about to drop on the angel would only increase his worry, a fact that made Crowley even angrier with Hell.

“Ssssshut the door.” Crowley hissed irritably before turning and slithering away into the cavernous flat, making his way up onto the desk and gesturing with his head towards the throne-like chair. Aziraphale got the hint and sat down. Crowley’s face might have had less expression, but his anger was palpable, thrumming through the flat like thunder. He knew Aziraphale could feel it too, from the way he frowned and looked around at the walls as if they’d personally offended him.

“Is something wrong?” Aziraphale ventured.

“Oh, no. Everythingsss peachy keen. What made you think otherwise?”

“Well … you do take this form sometimes, I believe, although not usually around me. I didn’t think it was necessarily cause for alarm.”

“Spose you’re right. Sorry angel. Look, had a bit of trouble with Downstairs …” Crowley slumped on the desk, hating every word that came out of his mouth. “They invoked an old contract. I’m stuck like this.”

“We will find a way to fix this, Crowley.”

“Nah, I don’t mean stuck like can’t change back. I mean stuck like they’ve taken my human corporation from me. No more flash bastard. Kaput. It’s snake or death.”

Aziraphale leaned forward, all concern and earnest longing to make things right. “I am quite certain if we look into it we can find some loophole …”

“Seems pretty fucking inescapable to me. Typical Downstairs timing. Was finally free to …. to …. anyway, you might as well go home. Sorry to worry you.”

“Do you … I mean … how long might you want to not see me? That is to say. Crowley, I am trying to ask how long I should stay away?”

Crowley raised his head at that, dread threading itself between every cell and sinew at the thought of driving Aziraphale away. “Angel …” he moved closer to Aziraphale and gently rubbed his head against the angel’s hand. It was the most they’d touched in millennia. “I’m sorry, Aziraphale. I’m angry and frusssstrated and honestly a bit scared. Don’t want you to go. Never want you to go.”

“Crowley …” Aziraphale gently trailed his fingers over the top of Crowley’s head. “May I … may I hold you? I just want to reassure us both that you’re here, you’re safe.”

“Obviously I’m here.” Crowley’s voice held a note of amusement, but he didn’t object when Aziraphale gathered his long, heavy serpentine body into his arms and carried him to the bedroom, where he gently deposited the demon on the bed. As Crowley watched, Aziraphale carefully removed his coat and shoes, and lay down on the bed beside Crowley.

“May I?” He asked, reaching towards Crowley, as if Crowley would say no to anything the angel asked of him. When Crowley nodded, Aziraphale reached out and stroked his cheek, fingers exploring the scales. “I’m not so familiar with this form.”

“Get used to it, angel. You’ll be seeing a lot of it.”

“I think I can live with that.” Aziraphale trailed his fingers gently over Crowley’s jaw, causing a flare of confusion and longing that left Crowley desperate to reach back, to coil around his angel and hold him close. But Aziraphale was likely just being kind, after learning what Crowley had been through.

Still, he was glad to have his angel near.

* * *

Crowley woke the next morning to find himself draped in soft black and red blankets, with plush pillows stacked around him. His entire body burned like he’d been dragged through boiling sulfur, but he supposed that was to be expected. Hell never took the least painful way. Raising his head groggily, he flicked out his tongue to scent the air. Coffee and … was that donuts? There was a hint of hot sugar and powdered cinnamon drifting through the flat.

“Angel? You still here?”

They’d never stayed in the same place overnight. It was a tacit agreement. No matter how drunk Crowley got at the bookshop, he always sobered up and took himself home. No matter how long and deep a conversation, they always wrapped it up and went their separate ways before dawn. 

Crowley was about to investigate the sudden air of domesticity suffusing his home, when he remembered the feel of Aziraphale’s hand on his face, and realisation hit him like a freight train: It had been the first time Aziraphale had touched him in a deliberate way that went beyond a casual brush of the hand, and he was a snake. All those millennia yearning to feel the angel’s hands on his body, his lips pressed to his mouth, for it to end like this. Crowley buried his head in his coils and went back to sleep, coffee and breakfast long forgotten.

When he woke again, it was to the feel of Aziraphale stroking his back slowly. 

“Crowley? Oh, you must be tired after having your human corporation taken from you. Do you need more rest? Is there … is there anything I can fetch you? Oh I know you will tell me not to fuss but really, you have always been there for me, and I must be allowed to do the same for you.”

Crowley raised his head, and a very concerned looking angel swam into focus.

“Did it hurt?” Aziraphale asked worriedly. “When they took your corporation I mean?”

Hurt barely began to cover the blazing agony of a full half of who he was being ripped from him. Crowley was certain that his remaining corporation was still trying to knit itself back together. Odd that Aziraphale hadn’t noticed his pain. This was the angel who’d once dropped a stack of books and rushed across the room with a hastily miracled cold compress, because Crowley had bumped his knee on the desk.

Did that mean Aziraphale couldn’t sense him as well in this form? Oh, that was just fucking cruel.

Earthly snakes can’t cry, but Crowley discovered at that moment that the Serpent of Eden most certainly could. He tried to compose himself. Tried to swallow the physical and emotional pain. But his defenses were a thin crystal dam trying to hold back a raging torrent, and before he could do anything about it he was sobbing helplessly, face buried in his coils, long body heaving with the strength of his cries.

“Crowley …. oh, my Crowley … I’ve got you …”

Warm hands were cradling his head and back, but he couldn’t force himself back to composure. He was mourning 6000 touch-starved years that would never reach a resolution.

“Come here, my love.” Aziraphale sat on the bed, gathering Crowley into his arms so he could bury his face against Aziraphale’s shoulder. Every time he thought he was calming down a bit, the reality hit him again and brought forth another tsunami. Aziraphale held him firm and steady through it, one arm wrapped around his coiled body, free hand resting gently on Crowley’s head as he all but wailed against the angel’s shoulder.

When his sobs had sputtered out into occasional hiccoughs, Aziraphale gently titled Crowley’s face up to his. “Now then. Suppose you tell me what all this is about?”

“Been so bloody long, angel. Trying to avoid detection. Not do anything to attract attention. Always hoped one day I’d be able to … to hold you, if you would let me, to feel your hands on me. Even just to hold my hand. And now we can’t ever, I won’t ever …”

“I am touching you now, darling. Are these not my hands holding you?”

“Yeah, cause you’re kind and I’m weeping like a moron.”

Aziraphale stared into Crowley’s eyes in silence for a few long minutes, mouth working as if he had something he wanted to say, but was struggling to find the words.

“I want to comfort you.” He said at last, voice quiet and strained. “I … I care about you, Crowley, you must know that.”

Crowley almost smiled. His angel was so devoted. He’d come when Crowley needed him, and stayed, and was determined to look after him. It wasn’t what Crowley had longed for and wanted and dreamed of. But maybe it could be enough.

* * *

**Soho, April**

“Crowley! Oh do hurry dear, we are going to be late.”

“Keep your hat on, angel.” Crowley slithered down the bookshop stairs with a practiced and hard-won ease. He’d been basking in the sun streaming in through the skylight Aziraphale had insisted on adding to the bedroom, so Crowley could laze there of an afternoon. “Anyone would think you’d never seen A Midsummer Night’s Dream.”

“Every time is like the first time.” Aziraphale told him firmly as they got into the Bentley. At first it had pained Crowley immensely to let Aziraphale drive his precious car, but he reasoned that with Aziraphale’s driving speed, the Bentley would hardly be in any danger. Crowley had hoped he’d be able to simply command the car with his mind, but he found his miracles were less precise since his change. He could do them when needed, but they took more energy, and made his insides burn with pain.

Of course, Aziraphale could have just miracled them to the theatre, but he knew how much Crowley loved his car and still got a great deal of pleasure from riding in it. Once inside the theatre, it was easy enough for Aziraphale to cast a miracle that hid them from human eyes, so Crowley could curl up on the seat and enjoy the performance. Though the thing he enjoyed best when they saw one of the angel’s favourites, was Aziraphale quoting the play on the way home, muttering it under his breath like most people would unconsciously hum a tune.

Things weren’t as awful as he’d feared, Crowley thought as they drove at a painfully steady pace towards Crowley’s flat. Looking up at the modern building, he remembered that first morning, after he’d cried on Aziraphale.

_“There’s so much I wanted to do with you once we were free.” He’d muttered. “Take you on that picnic we always talked about, go up to Edinburgh for the festival, go to Blackpool just because it’s tacky and fun, go to the theatre and the cinema, take you stargazing ….”_

_Is there anything at all to stop us doing those things?” Aziraphale had asked him with that infuriating logic of his._

_“Well … no.”_

_“There we are then. We are going to do all the things on your list.”_

_Crowley was going to say no, it was ridiculous, he wasn’t going to make a bucket list like a middle aged yoga instructor doing homework from their life coach. Especially since he’d invented bucket lists to keep people in a low-level state of not quite achieving what they wanted. But Aziraphale looked so hopeful and he couldn’t bear to disappoint the angel …._

_“Alright then.”_

Crowley was jolted - well, politely nudged - out of his reverie by Aziraphale carefully steering the Bentley into her parking spot in front of Crowley’s building.

“Coming in for a nightcap then, angel?”

“Love to.”

Aziraphale opened the door for Crowley, who hissed his thanks and headed towards the front door. He enjoyed the various plays and concerts they'd been going to, but the drinking and talking together afterwards was his favourite part. 

An hour later, they were both much the worse for wear thanks to a particularly delicious Talisker whisky. Crowley decided he couldn’t expect his angel to drink so much and not have at least a few decent snacks. Telling Aziraphale so, he miracled a plate of sushi from a nearby restaurant, leaving a good tip in its stead. But instead of looking pleased, as he might be expected to at the sudden appearance of fresh sushi, Aziraphale stared at Crowley with a worried countenance.

“Crowley … you flinched when you performed that miracle. Why?”

“S’nothing, angel.”

“It’s not nothing.” Aziraphale was giving him that look that brooked no argument.

“Really, there’s nothing to worry about. C’mon angel, enjoy your sushi while it’s fresh.”

Aziraphale sighed and did so, carefully feeding a few pieces to Crowley as if he had no idea how it affected Crowley when the angel’s fingers brushed his mouth, or Crowley’s tongue accidentally fluttered against Aziraphale’s fingertips. When the meal was finished, Aziraphale fixed Crowley with that look again.

“Tell me why you flinched.”

“Oh, Satan’s sake. Fine. Miracles have hurt me since what Beez did, alright? Feels like my insides are on fire.”

“Crowley, you could ask me to help. You don’t have to do miracles if they hurt you.”

“No!” Crowley reared up slightly. “I won’t have you treating me like an invalid!”

“That’s not what I meant.”

“It is what you meant! You want to shield me from everything that might hurt me, but that’s the opposite of helpful. This is what I have, now. This body, this pain, this stupid clumsiness that makes my miracles less effective. If I have to learn to live with it, so do you!”

With that, Crowley slid to the floor and then to his bedroom, using one of those clumsy, painful miracles, to slam the door shut behind him, cracking one of the thin glass panes. 

* * *

Over the years, Crowley had perfected the art of willing himself to sleep, and he was using that skill to its utmost in a desperate attempt to forget their fight. He was so angry, and he knew he was being fractious with Aziraphale unfairly because, truly, the angel just wanted to help him. But he’d had enough. Was it so much to want to be left alone? To not be mollycoddled? Crowley sighed, unwinding and rearranging his long body, and finding that nothing he did made him comfortable.

It’s not like he and Aziraphale were always perfectly polite to each other. _I don’t even like you. How can someone as clever as you be so stupid?_ But their last exchange was like a thorn digging between Crowley’s scales until he had to tear it out, or lose his mind.

He was in the bookshop seconds later. Aziraphale immediately put down the book he was carefully repairing the cover on.

“Crowley. What can I do for you?”

Crowley felt his soul contract in on itself. He knew Aziraphale only used that polite formal tone with him, when the angel was feeling particularly fraught or lost. He couldn’t bear it.

“I’m sorry.” He said, climbing onto the sofa. “Didn’t mean to snap at you like that. You’ve been so good to me, angel.”

“It’s alright, darling. You’re entitled to be upset, considering the situation. I realise I cannot protect you from every pain, no matter how I may wish it. Please let me help you sometimes? I promise not to make an invalid of you, Crowley.”

“I know, I appreciate your help.”

“I do have a question.” Aziraphale said, rather tentatively. “I fear you may not like it much, but I think the answer is important. At least … I think it will help me understand better.”

“Sure. Fire away.”

Aziraphale didn’t answer at once, but sat down on the sofa beside Crowley, who shifted to make room for him.

“I’ve only seen you in this form a small handful of times, but you have never seemed perturbed by it. I understand that this is different, of course I do. Naturally you are angry and frustrated at being forced to keep this form. But you seem especially upset by the shape of your corporation, and I must confess that confuses me. You have always worn snake themed items and had snake themed decor.”

“Yeah well, wasn’t sssstuck like this then, was I.” Crowley grumbled. Aziraphale said nothing but continued to give him the cool look of someone who knows he is being lied to, and is willing to wait until the liar gets uncomfortable enough to blurt out the truth. When Crowley said nothing, Aziraphale sighed and picked up his tea for a sip.

“I won’t insist upon answers, Crowley, but if you do ever want someone to talk with, I hope you will confide in me.”

Crowley felt himself crumple, becoming a messy spill of coils. Didn’t the angel deserve the truth, after everything? But, selfishly, Crowley was afraid to lose the one truly beautiful thing in his life.

“‘S just hard, knowing this is permanent.” He hedged, hoping that would satisfy Aziraphale enough. The angel nodded slowly, looking worried in a way that pierced Crowley’s heart. They spent the rest of the evening drinking wine and talking, but the conversation was stilted, and Crowley called it quits and went home much earlier than usual, studiously ignoring the disappointed look on Aziraphale’s face.

At home, he lay tangled in the velvety black sheets of his bed, replaying the feel of Aziraphale’s warmth and gentleness when Crowley had cried in his arms all those months ago, the sweet concern with which Aziraphale had wanted to help him. As far as apologies went, tonight’s felt lacklustre and unbefitting of the angel he … loved. Crowley groaned and shoved his head under a pillow, wishing the world would just go away. He was irredeemably in love with the angel, and though the thought of telling him had always been daunting, it had felt like a vague possibility, once they were free. But now, it felt impossible, and Crowley had to find a way to be easy around Aziraphale, restore their old rapport so they could enjoy spending time together.

If Crowley’d didn’t figure this out, he risked hurting, or even losing, the one thing he wanted more than anything else in the universe.

More sleep. He’d just conk out for a couple of days, then try again.

* * *

**Mayfair, June**

The risk had felt too great, in the end. But little by little the wound had healed over, and they’d settled into something like their old friendship, enjoying the city together and talking long into the night.

One hot June morning, Crowley was relaxing on the soft, cool mossy bed Aziraphale had insisted on creating for him, when there was a familiar and welcome knock on the door.

“Come in, Aziraphale.”

“Ah, hello.” Aziraphale sat down on the floor beside the bed of moss, rustling around in the brown paper bag he’d brought with him and retrieving one of Crowley’s favourite chocolate and ginger donuts. He fed it so delicately to Crowley, that the demon couldn’t help his heart melting a bit.

When they’d finished breakfast - Aziraphale had brought plenty of pastries to share, and some delicious mocha - the angel glanced uncertainly at Crowley, fiddling with one of the buttons on his waistcoat.

“I had a … a suggestion, but if you don’t like it of course we don’t have to …”

“What is it?”

“I … I booked us a week away. In Blackpool. It was on your list and I thought you needed a break. Concealing miracles will work just as well there as here, so we can do as we please. Are you able to change the size of your corporation? If so I can smuggle you into any attractions you like.”

Crowley was speechless. Aziraphale seemed to take his silence as doubt, and rushed to assure him.

“I booked a lovely little luxury self catering apartment, quite private, and with a huge bath that you can easily fit in. I know how much you like a long soak. I already pre-miracled all the floors to be nice to the touch, and not so smooth that you’ll slide on them. It’s got a balcony with a sea view.”

“You’ll hate Blackpool. It’s tacky.”

“I don’t care, Crowley. You wanted to go. I want to give you this.”

“You’d have to miracle us there.”

Crowley realised he sounded ungrateful, but truthfully he was stunned.

“I thought I might drive us, actually.”

“Angel, it’s a five hour drive if you go at human speed. And you’ll have to drive on the motorway. You’ll be frazzled before we arrived.”

“I would be no such thing. If I can take a bath in Hell, I can drive to a seaside resort. Do you … do you not want to go? I quite understand my dear, and I won’t be offended …”

Crowley leaned over and gently butted Aziraphale’s shoulder with his head.

“Love to, angel.”

* * *

“That was scrumptious.” Aziraphale put down his knife and fork with a contented sigh. They’d brought Chinese takeaway back to their self catering cottage, and enjoyed it sitting on the balcony that had a view over the sea. “I could get used to life by the sea. It’s so peaceful.”

“Yeah, it is.” Crowley stared out over the sea. Blackpool itself was far from peaceful - that was the point - but their little rental cottage was quiet and secluded. Crowley had miracled himself to a smaller size - a mere ten feet - so he could more easily coil on a dining chair and enjoy their meal. But the smaller versions of his corporation always felt itchy after a while, as if he didn’t quite fit inside them. Making his excuses, he slithered from the chair and across the patio, then into the comfortable lounge, where he could stretch out to his full Serpent of Eden size. Aziraphale joined him just moments later. 

“Shall I open that bottle of red we bought earlier today?” He enquired, with a gentle smile.

“That’s be great, angel, thanks.” Crowley climbed easily onto the sofa and let himself spill across it in untidy loops. 

Aziraphale soon reappeared with one standard wine glass, and one broader goblet that Crowley could drink from. 

“What do you want to do tomorrow?” He asked, giving Crowley a look so earnest the demon was glad he was lying down, so light headed did it make him feel. “We must go to the Pleasure Beach of course, though I am unsure of the logistics of how to ride a rollercoaster with you when quite frankly I shall probably be thoroughly discombobulated by the experience. And I thought you might enjoy the piers, you know, there are several, and I hear the Grundy Art Gallery has an interesting collection. I know you secretly enjoy art.”

“I thought we could go to the sealife centre.” Crowley rejoindered. “Then to Stanley Park. There’s this art deco cafe there that apparently does a pretty good afternoon tea. And we ought to go take a look at the Grand Theatre. Gorgeous architecture, apparently, and they’ve got some newfangled ballet thing happening.”

Aziraphale’s gaze softened and a smile flickered on his lips. “Those are all things I would love. This trip is for you.”

“Nuh. I said I wanted to go to Blackpool, see the illuminations even though it’s basically a few year-round Christmas lights, and enjoy the tacky seaside fun. Never said I couldn’t enjoy the more refined parts too. I have -standards-, angel.”

Aziraphale laughed then, the sound unexpected and lovely in the quiet room.

“Very well. So long as you let me take you to play ridiculous arcade games and ride the ferris wheel the next day.”

“Deal.”

There was a long, companionable silence, that felt almost like the old days. But then Aziraphale’s hand drifted to the top of Crowley’s head, gently stroking, thumb gliding over his scales, and Crowley’s heart nearly came out of his chest.

“Uh. I’d better get some sleep. Yeah. Long day tomorrow.”

Before Aziraphale could respond, Crowley was in his bedroom (Aziraphale had insisted on giving him the one with the sea view), miracling a blanket over himself.  


* * *

The day was just as lovely as Crowley had hoped. A quick miracle had ensured no one noticed him as he coiled around Aziraphale’s shoulders and allowed himself to enjoy being fed tiny sandwiches, teacakes and fancies. The performance at The Grand had been excellent. But Crowley’s highlight had been the aquarium, because honestly the sight of Aziraphale petting the rays at the petting tank and telling them how handsome they were, was more than any one heart should be able to take. 

They stopped on the way back to their cottage, this time for some Indian food that turned out to be utterly delicious. And so, with a sense of deja vu, Crowley found himself lounged on the sofa next to the angel, drinking wine. 

“How are you feeling?” Aziraphale asked him and Crowley shook his head. “Don’t mollycoddle me.”

Aziraphale looked contrite, and Crowley felt like a right bastard. Aziraphale seemed like he might say something else, but then he subsided and settled for pouring them more wine. The air grew thicker, unsaid words crowding the space between them. There was so much Crowley wanted to say _. I love you. I have always loved you. Sometimes I think I’m going to break my own heart with using it to love you so hard. Since the night you called me ‘my love’, even though I know you were just being kind, I’ve replayed those words over and over until my head hurts with it._

But he couldn’t. He couldn’t. _I care about you_ , Aziraphale had said. That Crowley had always wanted more had long since felt selfish. Now, it felt unspeakable. 

“Well my dear, I think I shall retire to my room to do a little light reading. I may have to bring a few more books up from the bookshop - I am running low on material. Sleep tight.”

Seconds later the door to Aziraphale’s bedroom closed, leaving Crowley feeling very alone.

* * *

This was ok. It was all ok, Crowley decided, forcefully agreeing with himself. They’d had an absolutely wonderful day strolling on the beach, eating sticks of Blackpool rock, while Crowley amused Aziraphale by changing the lettering to read such drops of wisdom as “Heaven sucks” and “Gabriel’s a knob.” Aziraphale had taken him for a walk on North Pier, and they’d ridden the ferris wheel, enjoying the far-reaching views over the sea. 

Crowley thought he was finally coming to peace with the fact that the depth of his feelings would remain unplumbed and unknown. What they had now was so much more than they’d ever been allowed before, so much more than he’d ever dared hope for.

Aziraphale deserved so much more than the rage and bitterness of unexpressed hopes. He deserved a friend who would be there for him, enjoy his company, show him everyday how valued he was. Crowley could do that. He would work on getting his pain under control, try and focus on how free they were. Even if it didn’t look like he’d wanted. Even if he had to adjust to a few things.

It was a good plan, and Crowley whole-heartedly intended to carry it out.

It had all started unravelling because of a plant. Because of course it was a plant, hadn’t an overgrown, over important, plant been the start of Crowley’s troubles on earth?

Aziraphale had been in the middle of putting two wrapped portions of fish and chips on the kitchen island, and had reached to move a potted plant aside to make room. “Here, angel, I’ve got it.” Crowley had said, using a small miracle to move the plant. Except the miracle hadn’t been precise enough, and the plant had ended up on the floor surrounded by broken shards of terracotta, and small heaps of soil. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” Crowley grumbled, brushing the shards into a heap with his tail and miracling them into the ether, wincing at the pain it caused him, before dragging himself to the sofa and flopping on it with a frustrated hiss.

“Crowley, I could have cleaned that up. Don’t hurt yourself.”

“We talked about this!” Crowley snapped. “Don’t baby me. I won’t rely on you for every miracle and I’m sure as shit not going to stop using them.”

Aziraphale nodded and sat down beside him. 

“Are you ever going to talk to me, Crowley? I mean really talk,” he added, holding up his hand to stave off Crowley’s incoming protest that of course he was, what did Aziraphale think they were doing. “Every time we get close to anything more than a casual conversation, you either run away, or get angry. And that’s fine, of course you’re angry at being stuck like this. Just tell me - are you angry with me, specifically? Do you … do you not want to be friends any more? Do you blame me for what’s happened to you?” The angel went pale then. “Is this actually my fault, Crowley? Are you somehow stuck like this because of me?”

“I’ve been a right grouchy sod, angel. I’m sorry.”

“It’s understandable. I just need to know - do you not want me around, Crowley? We don’t have to see each other now everything is squared away and the earth is safe.”

Crowley froze, horror flooding his veins like poison. Was that what Aziraphale thought? Shit. Of course it was. Crowley kept pulling back from him, when he wasn’t biting his head off. Oh shit, shit, shit. 

“Don’t leave me.” He blurted out, then clammed up in shock. 

“Don’t leave you?” Aziraphale looked thoroughly confused. “That’s the furthest thing from my mind. Why on earth would I leave you?”

When Crowley didn’t answer, still trying to figure out which words he could say next and still have a chance of saving their friendship, Aziraphale leaned over and planted a quick kiss on the hinge of his jaw. 

“Aziraphale - “

“Oh lord, I’m sorry Crowley. You seemed so upset and hurt, and I’m not sure why on earth I thought kissing you would fix it, forgive me, I just wanted to comfort you.”

“But you kissed me.” Crowley said, as if Aziraphale hadn’t noticed.

“Yes.”

“You kissed me.”

“Yes dear, I think we have established that I kissed you. I’m sorry.”

Crowley turned to look the angel in the eye, balling all of his courage up and holding it tight in his coils. “I’m not.”

Aziraphale smiled softly and curled his fingers underneath Crowley’s chin. “I won’t leave you. Of course I won’t. Why did you think I would?”

“Because I keep pushing you away.”

“My love, we’ve known each other for six thousand years. Do you think we can’t weather a small storm?”

“You call this -” Crowley inclined his head down to indicate his long serpentine body. “A small storm?”

“I call anything that leaves us alive and mostly unscathed a small storm. Now, won’t you tell me what really happened in Hell?”

Crowley was going to protest. But Aziraphale deserved the truth, and so he began to talk, telling the angel all the details of the deal he’d made in Hell. By the time Crowley had finished speaking, Aziraphale was wiping tears from his eyes. 

“You did this to protect me?”

Crowley moved his head in a way very reminiscent of rolling his eyes. “No, Aziraphale. I thought I’d just let Hell have you this time.”

Aziraphale shivered a little and Crowley moved closer, butting his head against Aziraphale’s palm. “Sorry, sorry. That was sassier and less horrifying in my head.”

“I don’t understand.” Aziraphale said softly, with a touch of heartbreak. “Why would you … why would you make such a sacrifice for me? And then draw away? Crowley we would have found a way, you didn’t have to … you shouldn’t have let them ….” 

“Angel, think about it. How could I take the option where they might attack you, when I had an option to keep you safe? Use your head.”

Aziraphale swallowed, his throat bobbing, tried to speak, but lapsed into silence. Then he tried again, his voice raw in a way Crowley had never heard it. “You stupid, reckless, impossible creature.”

When he didn’t speak again, Crowley risked rearranging himself so he could rest his head on Aziraphale’s thigh, feeling the warmth of his body through his clothes, and suddenly wishing he could close his eyes in this form, so his world could contract to nothing but the heat and nearness of the angel. Aziraphale’s fingers stroked his head and neck, and neither of them spoke for a long time. It was Aziraphale who eventually broke the silence.

“Is that why you’re angry, Crowley? Because you felt you had no choice, that you had to accept this to keep me from danger?”

“No.” Crowley looked up at him then. “Never that. Would have gone through far worse for you. Anyway, told you why I was upset. That first morning.”

Aziraphale’s brows drew together as he clearly flipped through the card index of his memory. “You … you said you were upset because you had hoped there might be a chance that you could hold me, that we might … hold hands, that I might touch you.”

“Thanks for laying all that out.” Crowley muttered, notes of hope and fear suffusing his voice.

“Crowley, I - “

“Care about me, I know. And angel, I swear, I am absolutely fine with us being friends. I’ve been all over the place in my head, but I’ll do better.”

“We seem to be talking utterly at cross purposes, so I am going to politely request that you be quiet for a moment and let me talk. There are things I need to say, ought to have said.”

Crowley nodded, glad his face was less expressive, so Aziraphale couldn’t see his misery. The angel clearly needed to air some things, and Crowley supposed it was for the best to get everything out in the open. But he wasn’t looking forward to it.

“We both know that I am better at subtext than I am at being blunt. And in this case, I fear my proclivities have caused a serious miscommunication, one which I intend to remedy now.” Aziraphale took a deep breath, and Crowley realised the angel was trembling.

“It’s ok, you don’t have to say -”

He began, and Aziraphale fixed him with a look usually reserved for customers who looked apt to buy books.

“I must. I must and I cannot let myself be a coward, please let me say this. Crowley, I am in love with you. I have known that for centuries. Before you say it, I don’t mean because I am an angel and ought to love people. I mean I am completely, irrevocably, head over wings, in love with you. If you would consider it - if you will have me - I should rather like to be your … your partner, your lover, your … yours.”

“But we might never … I might never be human shaped again …” Crowley trailed off, feeling like he’d been dropped in the middle of a strangely thrilling country, but with no map to guide him.

“I don’t mean at some quite possibly mythical point in the future when you are human-shaped again. I mean now.”

Crowley shook his head, a slow and confused weave. “You’re drunk angel.”

“I most certainly am not. Oh, alright, perhaps a little. But I am certainly compos mentis enough to know what I am saying.”

“You want to be mine.” Crowley said suddenly, as Aziraphale’s words started to sink in.

“If you would consider it, yes.”

“Consider it?” Crowley shook his head again. “Angel, if you don’t know by now that I’m yours, body and soul …”

Aziraphale beamed at him then, as if Crowley had just given him the entire universe. “Then you would like to … to be with me, to be partners?”

Crowley couldn’t breathe. This was it. This was how he was going to expire. Not in holy water or at the hands of Satan, but right here on this very plush sofa in this very nice apartment in Blackpool. He could hear his blood rushing in his veins, while his heart was hammering so fast Crowley feared he would never get it to beat at a normal speed again.

“I’m a snake.” He offered, as if Aziraphale hadn’t noticed.

“You’re Crowley.” The angel said softly. “My love.”

“But I’m …. I mean, I’m not ashamed of it, angel, but I can’t see how we could have a relationship.”

“Can’t you?” Aziraphale ran his hand gently down Crowley’s side. “Do we not have the same debates we always did? Share food and wine? Here we are, exploring a new town together. We’ve been out to see all the sites, eaten lovely food, strolled on the beach at sunset, collected shells … it’s all been rather romantic.”

Crowley hissed a sudden, slightly bitter, laugh. He couldn’t help it.

“Crowley?”

“I’m sorry, angel. I’ve just been such a classic fool. All this time I’ve been agonising over this” - Crowley used his tail to gesture to the rest of his body - “ while you’ve been the far more sensible of us, enjoying the moment. I’ve been so damn angry about everything they took from me.”

“When it turns out, my beautiful serpent, they haven’t taken it at all. I am right here, offering you … well, everything.”

“Aziraphale, I …”

“It’s unconventional, yes. But isn’t everything about our relationship? I’m an angel, and you're a demon. We’re immortal. We bought ourselves a measure of freedom by switching appearances and facing things that would have destroyed the other.”

“... When you put it like that.”

“After all we’ve been through, Crowley. If this is something we both want, mightn’t we at least try?”

Crowley nodded, his mind awhirl. Aziraphale huffed out a tiny sigh.

“I’m afraid I need a little more than a nod. Please tell me plain, do you want us to begin a romantic relationship? Or at least, to make it officially so, for I suspect it has been thus for many centuries now.”

Crowley shook his head again, long body rippling in discomfort. But he had to speak plain. The angel deserved that.

“Look, this is as awkward as Satan’s balls, but I need to ask. When you say romantic … what do you envision? Because angel I will give you anything. But I need to know what anything -is-.”

“Crowley, have you lost command of the English language? We are talking in circles. Romantic. In love, committed to each other, going on dates and maybe, eventually, waking up beside one another of a morning and reading the newspapers over breakfast. All those delightfully worldly things we both fought to protect.”

Aziraphale poured them both more wine, then picked up a chocolate from the selection they’d brought back from their most recent jaunt around town, and fed it to Crowley. 

“I want all of that too.” Crowley admitted, wondering if “want” was a strong enough word for the insatiable craving inside him.

“Then what is holding you back?”

“Isn’t it obvious?”

Aziraphale stroked his back, fingers lingering against his scales. “I don’t care which corporation you’re wearing.”

“I believe you, angel, and it’s very noble of you, but we will need to set some ground rules so we both know where we stand.”

“Of course dear, that would be normal for any relationship.”

Crowley shifted position so he could lay his head on Aziraphale’s thigh again.

“Specifically, how much I am allowed to touch you, and in what manner. How affectionate it’s alright to be. That sort of thing.”

“Ah, I see.” Aziraphale traced a pattern over Crowley’s scales, making him shiver. “I do think I would like to take things a little slowly, in that respect.”

“Of course, angel, we don’t have to -”

“Not because of your corporation.” Aziraphale cut him off, gently but firmly. “It’s only that I’ve never … I just never wanted to, with anyone else. If I am going to be that intimate with someone, I want to be in love with them, and I have only ever been in love with you.”

Crowley felt something hopeful and tender blooming in his chest. 

“Angel, do you mean that you want us to … to ….”

“Have sex eventually? Well yes, my dear, if you would like to. I’ve long held such desires for you. It simply didn’t seem safe to explore, and I didn’t know if you would welcome it.”

“Welcome it? I’d have sold my soul to touch you, if I wasn’t already damned. Can’t imagine anything lovelier than being allowed to see you and put my hands on you. Even just to hold hands or kiss you on the cheek. But now, I …”

“But nothing.” Aziraphale said. “You are still exactly you. This corporation is as much you as your other, is it not?”

“Well, yes, but …”

“No.” Aziraphale told him fiercely. “You are as much yourself now as at any other moment in your long life. Even this corporation is but an approximation of your true form, your essence. My feelings for you are utterly unchanged by your change in appearance.”

“We’ll take things at any pace you want to.” Crowley reassured him. 

“Is that a yes, then? You will take me as your love, allow me to express my deep affections for you?”

“Yessssss yes yes of course. Like I’d ever say no.”

“Can we cuddle?”

“Oh, angel ….” Feeling like his heart was about to melt out of his chest, Crowley draped more of his body over Aziraphale’s lap, winding himself up and around the angel’s shoulders and giving him a reassuring squeeze. Aziraphale turned to smile at him and press a soft kiss to his cheek, and suddenly Crowley cared much less about which form he was occupying. He had far more interesting and wonderful things to think about.

* * *

  
**Edinburgh, August**

“Angel, I can do it!”

“But it pains you.” Aziraphale bit his lip, watching as Crowley miracled things into a picnic basket. The angel had teased Crowley that for all their romantic talk, they’d somehow never arranged that picnic. And damned if Crowley was going to leave that unremedied. 

“Yeah, but we talked about this. We still don’t have a way to stop that. So we’re both going to have to live with it. I can’t just let you do everything for me. That’d be bloody unbearable.”

Aziraphale sighed, gathering some plates and adding them to the hamper. “I do understand, it’s just hard to see you in pain when I could easily do things for you.”

“I know, angel, but I can’t live my life never doing things for myself. Chronic pain is something I have, now. Part of the package. Look, make a deal with you. I promise I will ask you for help sometimes, if it hurts too much or if I really just want to dodge the pain, if you promise to ask if I need help rather than just doing things for me.”

Aziraphale looked like he might protest. But then he gave a slightly sad smile. “Alright. Deal. Now, do we have everything?”

“Yep. C’mon, angel. The speed you drive we’ll be lucky to get there by sunset. And we want to get back to Edinburgh in time for the start of the festival.”

* * *

“Oh, you were right, Crowley. The view is magnificent.”

They were sitting in a sheltered spot beside the Fairy Pools on the Isle of Skye, watching the cold water cascade against a backdrop of wild, craggy mountains. 

“Thought you’d love it.” Crowley was sprawled happily on the thick tartan picnic blanket, thoroughly appreciating the slight miracle Aziraphale had cast to ensure they stayed at a comfortable temperature. 

“I was thinking, it’s so peaceful here, why don’t we rent a cottage for the night and head back to Edinburgh tomorrow? The festival doesn’t start for another three days anyway.”

“Sounds great, angel.”

Aziraphale hummed agreement, feeding Crowley a sweet, juicy slice of mango. When Crowley unthinkingly lapped the juice from the angel’s fingers, he shivered, and Crowley went still.

“Sorry.”

“Don’t be.” Aziraphale said, his voice husky. They lapsed into silence, companionable, but lightly charged, like the moment after a candle flares to life. Then after a while, Aziraphale said, quite casually “The water does look inviting, if cold. I think I shall take a dip - would you like to join me? I can use a miracle to make sure you don’t get too cold.”

Crowley tried to make articulate words but all he could manage was a quick nod.

“Jolly good.” Aziraphale began removing his clothes, and Crowley was seized by the urge to bury his head under the nearest picnic cushion, lest his perceptive angel read the raw desire in his gaze. Somehow in 6000 years they had never been naked in front of the other. Crowley was in no way ready for this. But ready or not, Aziraphale was disrobing and placing his clothes in a neatly folded pile. He was completely unselfconscious, which made the whole thing even more hopelessly erotic, striding towards the pool, star-pale against the heather and rock.

Crowley had no idea how he was supposed to keep breathing, let alone swim.

Somehow he managed to slither to the edge of the pool and glide into the water, curving through it easily. Aziraphale swam over to join him, giving him a playful splash then swimming away as Crowley gave chase. The coolness of the water sluicing over his scales was fucking blissful, and the joyful, happy taste of Aziraphale’s emotions was beyond compare. By the time they reached the far bank, Crowley thought it wasn’t possible to be any happier. 

And then Aziraphale kissed him.

It was a little clumsy - neither of them were experienced, and their corporations were not completely compatible, but what it lacked in finesse was eclipsed by the simple fact that Aziraphale, with whom he’d been in love since almost the beginning, was kissing him. The angel had one arm around Crowley’s thick coils, the other hand stroking his face as he kissed and kissed and kissed, pressing his lips to Crowley’s mouth again and again. Crowley’s tongue flickered out, longing to explore the angel’s mouth, taste him from the inside, but it felt presumptuous.

“Can I?” He asked hoarsely, needing to know it was ok. Aziraphale understood what he meant at once, whispering “yes, always” as he parted his lips so Crowley could slide his forked tongue between them and let it play against the angel’s tongue. He instinctively coiled around Aziraphale, and when a thick section of his body slid between the angel’s legs, Aziraphale gave a shaky moan that all but undid Crowley.

“Angel, angel ….” He pressed up harder, rippling and undulating against and between the angel’s thighs until he felt Aziraphale’s cock stiffening and realised that the angel was moving with him, grinding frantically against him in quick, shaky thrusts, hands grasping at Crowley’s body as he panted and trembled.

Crowley lifted Aziraphale carefully onto the bank with a quick miracle, making a sound that was part hiss, part desperate groan. Nudging his snout against Aziraphale’s jaw, he spoke quietly to him. “You’re so beautiful, my angel. Would you like me to keep moving like this? I don’t want to rush you into anything.”

“Please … oh please don’t stop, please Crowley, oh …”

Aziraphale grasped at him as if he was lost at sea and Crowley alone could save him, his cries of pleasure ringing out in the chilly air of the glen. 

“That’s it.” Crowley told him softly. “That’s it angel, let me make you feel good, you’re so fucking gorgeous.” The parts of him that were not occupied gliding between the angel’s thighs, wrapped around Aziraphale, holding him close and safe as they rocked together.

“Crowley, I think I’m close, I …. oh, oh god.” Aziraphale’s words trailed off into a series of broken moans, his hips jerking faster and faster until he clamped his plush thighs against Crowley’s muscular body, shouting the demon’s name to the sky as his hips stiffened and he came hard across Crowley’s red belly scales. Still trembling with aftershocks, Aziraphale sagged against Crowley, breathing hard.

“My love .... my love. That was quite unlike anything else I’ve ever felt. Oh! Oh … I’m terribly sorry, should I …?” Aziraphale raised his hand to snap his fingers, most likely to clean them up, and Crowley immediately shook his head. Instead, he slipped back into the water, carefully drawing Aziraphale with them so they could clean up in the cold loch. After, Crowley insisted on miracling them dry, and they curled up on the picnic blanket, passing the rest of the afternoon snuggled together, occasionally nibbling on the remains of the picnic, and drinking tea from the flask that certainly wouldn’t consider letting the tea get cold or become over brewed.

As night drew in, they made their way to the tiny village of Stein on the Waternish peninsula, securing a self catering cottage for the night. They enjoyed a leisurely supper at an eighteenth century inn overlooking the moody beauty of a loch under an endless sky. Crowley made himself small enough to hide inside Aziraphale’s shirt, coiling gently around his warm, soft body. Aziraphale, for his part, employed a small miracle to ensure no one noticed his serpentine companion.

By the time they were cosy in their rented cottage, with a roaring fire in the grate and the sound of the wind howling across the hills outside, Crowley felt, for once, quite at peace with himself and the world. Aziraphale had found a collection of Samuel Taylor Coleridge and was giving a beautifully dramatic reading of The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, in that lovely voice of his that always left Crowley weak with love and desire. When the epic was done, Aziraphale set the book aside and smiled at Crowley, who was coiled in front of the fire.

“I might lie down for a while. I am not much given to sleep, but the bed looks divinely comfortable, so perhaps a small nap is in order. Would you like to join me?”

“Maybe in a bit. The warmth is just very soothing.”

“Oh?” Aziraphale said, and Crowley groaned inwardly. Why was the angel so good at reading him? 

“Helps with the pain, you see. My muscles tend to cramp up easily.”

“Do you … do you suppose a gentle massage might help with that?”

“Never even thought about it.”

“Might I try? There is a difference between accepting your pain, and refusing to do anything to ease it. It’s not a weakness to let me help, if I can.”

“Alright … sounds good. Thanks.”

Crowley could taste the soft relief emanating from his angel, as Aziraphale miracled up several very thick fluffy towels and spread them in front of the fire, encouraging Crowley to lie on them. Then he brought forth a small vial of oil, which smelled divine when he poured a little out to coat his hands.

“Cedarwood and cinnamon.” He explained. “They’re both quite warming and soothing, and I know they are both scents that you like.”

So saying, he sat down beside Crowley and started stroking his hands over the demon’s body, gently kneading and rubbing as he went. His fingers worked with infinite care, finding out where he could gently press to ease some tension, mindful not to catch on Crowley’s scales.

“You’re quite beautiful, you know.” He told Crowley, as his hands cupped and so tenderly squeezed their way down Crowley’s sides. “Such beautiful jet black scales and then your underbelly as red as any sunset.”

Crowley tucked his head into his coils, suddenly feeling unaccountably shy.

“You know what I miss most?” He said quietly, suddenly feeling quite ready to be more vulnerable with his kind, loving angel. His partner. The word still made Crowley giddy with joy.

“What do you miss, my love?”

“Having a more expressive face. Worry about it a lot, sometimes. I don’t think my face is totally expressionless, but it’s nothing like a human face, is it?”

“It’s more expressive than you think.” Aziraphale stroked the back of Crowley’s neck until he lifted his head from his coils and looked the angel in the eye. “I still catch you smirking at me, smiling sometimes. You still laugh. Perhaps it’s a little more subtle, but that does not discount the truth of it.”

“You can’t feel me as clearly though. When they took my corporation, you would normally have sensed my pain. Or just … when the miracles hurt, you know, you’d feel it.”

“I hadn’t realised.” Aziraphale said quietly as he continued to massage Crowley’s body. 

“Damn, ‘m sorry angel, didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

“You didn’t. Rather, I was thinking that I had not noticed, because I don’t need to sense your feelings. I can see when you are in pain, and we talk about it, and you are honest with me. I can tell you love me from your every word and action. So I have to ask, have we really lost anything?”

Crowley rested his head on his coils. “Hell. Didn’t think of it like that.”

Aziraphale leaned down then and kissed Crowley’s jaw softly. “And now you have thought of it like that, what is your opinion?”

Crowley smiled up at him. “I like it.”

* * *

**Near Devil’s Dyke, Sussex, November**

Crowley was staring morosely at the letter Hell had sent him. He barely registered Aziraphale’s footfall on the stairs of their cottage, until he felt the comfort of his lover’s hand on his back, thumb rubbing softly over the scales.

“Bad news, my love?”

“That obvious?”

“You left your coffee to go cold. You only do that when you’re upset.” Aziraphale pointed out, using a miracle to warm said coffee, before adding an extra shot of Crowley’s favourite salted caramel syrup.

“Results of my appeal.” Crowley told him, voice dull and distant.

“”Not good?”

“Well, I can either have the contract rescinded and get my corporation back, but put you at risk, or I can stay as I am and know you’re safe. Total no brainer, obviously. You did some excellent rules lawyering Angel, but it wasn’t enough.”

Aziraphale nodded and just kept stroking his back. Crowley looked up at him, not sure what he wanted or needed, but Aziraphale knew. Of course he did. Leaning down he pressed kisses over Crowley’s face. “You are allowed to mourn, my darling. We both knew this was the likely outcome, but it still hurts to have it confirmed.”

“Feels ungrateful to mourn. I’ve got you, which is all I ever wanted. I love our life, angel, I really do. There’s not much I could do in my human form, that I can’t do now. Can’t dance but I sucked at that anyway. Getting pretty good at cooking, after my own fashion. Can go anywhere I want.”

“You are still allowed to regret the loss of the corporation you wore for thousands of years. Having the loss finalised is sure to mean an extra adjustment period. That’s natural, but I will be by your side. You will never have to handle this alone.”

Crowley leaned up and nuzzled Aziraphale’s shoulder. “Thanks, angel.”

There was a long silence, with the slightest miasma of awkwardness around the edges.

“There are some things you think you cannot do in this form, that you might.” Aziraphale offered, holding the words out to Crowley carefully. Since that night in the Fairy Pools, they had embraced many times, scales and wings wrapping around each other for warmth and comfort, but rarely for more. There had been a small handful of occasions when Crowley had noticed his angel responding to his nearness with obvious desire, and been unable to resist rippling and pushing against Aziraphale until he was sighing Crowley’s name and finding his release against his scales. But every time Aziraphale reached for Crowley with the intention of finding ways to pleasure him, Crowley drew back. It wasn’t that he was ashamed of his corporation, and he trusted Aziraphale when he said he saw Crowley as himself in each form, and wanted to be intimate with him.

It was just that …

“I was waiting.” He blurted out. “In case there was hope. In case there was a faint chance for us to be together as human-shaped beings. More compatible and all that.”

Aziraphale sat down on the sturdy kitchen chair beside Crowley’s, so he could drape himself across the angel’s thighs and coil round his chest. “You know, my love, that there is no pressure on you to be more intimate with me. Every day living here with you is perfect as it is. But it is important that you understand this - if you ever do want me, I am yours completely. I would consider it an honour to be allowed to be so intimate with you.”

“Thank you.” Crowley said softly. No other words would come, but he felt more relaxed as he coiled closer around Aziraphale and started playfully arguing with him over crossword clues in the morning paper.

That evening, he awoke from a nap on their huge overstuffed couch, which Aziraphale had insisted on furnishing with multiple soft blankets and cushions of various textures, to see the angel packing a large wicker picnic basket. Curious, Crowley slithered onto the floor, appreciating the underfloor heating (which Aziraphale had also insisted on), and made his way over to investigate.

“Whatcha up to there?”

“It occurs to me, my love, that we have done everything on your bucket list, save for going stargazing. It’s really rather remiss of us.”

Crowley peered into the basket. “Chocolate donuts AND caramel coffee muffins? Count me in.”

Half an hour later, Aziraphale (very carefully) parked the Bentley in a miraculously deserted spot, where stars and even the milky way were visible above a clearing in an old growth forest. Placing thick miraculously-heated blankets on the ground, he suffused the air around them with enough warmth that Crowley could enjoy a slight chill on his scales, but not enough to be uncomfortable. He wasn’t as susceptible to cold as standard issue snakes, but he did tend to prefer warmer temperatures.

It was the perfect night, Crowley thought, as they gazed at the stars, and he pointed out some of his favourites to Aziraphale, while the angel fed him all manner of pastries and sandwiches, rounding the feast off with a very nice bottle of wine.

“I could get used to this.” He told Aziraphale.

“Just as well dearest, as we live here.”

“No.” Crowley turned to face the angel, thankful for the preternatural vision that let him see Aziraphale’s soft, beautiful features in the starlight. “I could get used to being a snake. Forever. Could be alright.”

“I could get used to being with you forever.” Aziraphale replied, leaning over and kissing Crowley softly on the mouth. Crowley gave a sibilant sigh, gently sliding his tongue into the angel’s willing mouth and exploring. When Aziraphale groaned and ran his hands down Crowley’s sides in something that felt like desperation, Crowley moved closer, letting his weight press Aziraphale back against the thick, warm blankets. Aziraphale reclined at once, pulling Crowley down on top of him, hands squeezing and rubbing all over him.

“You’re wearing far too many clothessss.” Crowley muttered. Aziraphale gave him a look of sheer delight, and miracled his garments into a neat pile beside the picnic basket. Crowley shivered at the beautiful sight before him. “Never gonna get used to how lovely you are.” He told Aziraphale as he bent his head to nuzzle the soft curves and valleys of the angel’s body, letting his tongue flick out to capture the angel’s taste. His body spilled across his lover’s chest and stomach in a messy pile of coils, before he shifted position to hold Aziraphale tighter. He wanted to press against every inch of the angel’s skin, ripple against him until they were completely intertwined. 

Looping himself around the angel’s shoulder, he rubbed his snout against Aziraphale’s cheek, whispering teasingly to him. “Look at the state of you, so hard already. You’re incorrigible.”

“Waited so long for you.” Aziraphale replied, the words broken apart by gasps. “Crowley please, if you’re ready, if you want to …”

“Angel, angel ….” Crowley let the weight of his coils push Aziraphale’s legs apart, pinning them there and reveling in the way the angel moaned. “Tell me what you need.”

Aziraphale turned at that, cupping Crowley’s face in one hand and giving him an adoring smile. “I need you inside me, my love.” He said simply, and moved in for more long kisses. Crowley hissed sharply at the thought, the volume increasing when Aziraphale carefully reached to encourage Crowley’s vent to open, fingers eager but impossibly gentle as he ran them over both lengths, moaning quietly.

“Is this … is thissss … fuck, angel … is this ok?”

“So much more than ok, my darling.” Aziraphale told him, whole body arching and writhing under Crowley’s, as if he couldn’t get enough of Crowley against him. “May I use my mouth on you?”

“Are you sure?”

“Would I ask if I wasn’t?”

Crowley hissed out a laugh. “Touché. Yes … anything you want, I’m yours”

Aziraphale gave him that dazzling smile, the one that said he was unspeakably happy, and changed position so he could lick and gently suck each length, exploring with slow ease while Crowley hissed and writhed helplessly.

“Angel, pleasssse. You’re getting me so close, want to come inside you.”

Aziraphale swore softly at the words. “Oh, yes please, my beautiful love.”

“Can I use a miracle to prepare you?” Crowley asked, and Aziraphale hesitated.

“I could do it …” He began to say, then realisation dawned in his eyes. Crowley needed to be allowed to take charge, to take care of him, even if the miracle pained the demon a little. Aziraphale nodded, and Crowley invoked the necessary energy to open Aziraphale’s body for him, slicking him with lubricant. Aziraphale groaned wildly at the sensation, panting hard. Quietly wondering if it was possible to die of pleasure, Crowley couldn’t resist sliding down to press his tongue into Aziraphale’s slick anus, feeling him clench and flutter. When the angel scrabbled at Crowley’s back, trying to pull him up, Crowley gave a teasing hiss of laughter.

“Alright, you impatient thing.” He murmured, nuzzling softly under Aziraphale’s jaw as he twisted his lower body into a better position. Aziraphale wrapped one arm around Crowley, as his other hand slid down to caress both hemipenes, before helping Crowley ease one of them inside Aziraphale’s waiting entrance.

“Crowley … oh, my love, you feel magnificent.” Aziraphale breathed, in awed tones. Crowley was lost, surrounded by the taste of his angel, the scent of his desire, the soft velvet of his skin. He couldn’t seem to stop moving, clutching at Crowley and pulling him in tighter, cock dragging against Crowley’s belly scales and painting them in trails of white. Crowley let the rippling motion of his lower body push him into the angel again and again, while his midsection kept the angel pinned and his legs apart. 

“Angel, I can’t … can’t hold on …”

“Then don’t, please don’t, please let me feel you come inside me, Crowley …”

The words were too much, pushing Crowley over the edge until he was hissing harsh pleasure against Aziraphale’s neck, shoving desperately into the angel as he came. As he let himself slip free, he raised his head to ask Aziraphale’s permission to take him again, but before he could form words the angel was reaching for his other hemipenis and guiding it into his wet and clenching body, groaning Crowley’s name in filthy tones that Crowley knew he’d never have enough of.

“Harder.” Aziraphale almost growled “I won’t break, Crowley, take me, hold me, bite me if you need to just don’t stop …”

Crowley hissed sharply, noticing the way the vibration made Aziraphale shudder, and let himself get lost in his angel. He wrapped himself tighter around his lover, letting his long body squeeze and hold and press, getting Aziraphale as tight in his hold as he could, tongue dancing an unending dance against moonsoft skin and tasting the angel’s rapidly increasing lust. When his fangs grazed the top of the Aziraphale’s chest, the angel sobbed with pleasure and wrapped both arms tight around Crowley,

Every ripple, every thrust, every stuttering movement of Aziraphale’s hips, seemed to throw them more closely together until suddenly Crowley could sense Aziraphale’s divine energy in the way he’d thought lost. He knew Aziraphale could sense him too, from the way the angel held on to him and shouted his name, his divine essence rushing to meet Crowley’s infernal energy like universes colliding, spilling stardust into both of them. Crowley could feel the stars above and inside him, every dark curl of his energy singing with desire for the angel, whose energy was brushing every place within Crowley until they were entwined under the night sky, crying out for each other as they both came, shuddering together.

Dawn was touching the horizon when Crowley woke up, looking up to find the hill still miraculously deserted. Aziraphale was smiling down at him, for Crowley had fallen asleep atop his angel, with his head resting over Aziraphale’s heart.

“Good morning, my beautiful serpent.”

“Morning, angel. Did you actually sleep for once?”

“Not a wink, darling. I was content to hold and admire you, and it was so beautiful up here that I was in no hurry to take us home. Though I do find my mind turning to breakfast …”

Crowley laughed for delight, leaning up to accept several very delicious good morning kisses from his angel. 

“Come on, then. I’ll make myself smaller and we can go to that little cafe you love. And then home, to do that all over again.”

Aziraphale gave him an unexpectedly salacious grin. “Oh? And after that?”

“After that I’m going to make an entirely naughty bucket list of all the things I’m going to do to you next.”

“Tempter.” Aziraphale kissed him again. 

“But you’re gladly tempted.”

The angel’s smile turned soft then. “Yes, my love. Always.”

As Aziraphale packed the blankets away, and turned to scoop up Crowley, who had miracled himself to going-out-to-breakfast sized, the sun burst above the horizon, flooding the landscape with light. When Aziraphale sat down in the driver’s seat of the Bentley and gathered Crowley into his lap, the demon climbed the front of Aziraphale’s waistcoat to nudge at his neck and shoulder affectionately.

“Love you, angel.”

“And I love you, my Crowley. Now do be quiet. I must concentrate on turning …”

As Aziraphale put on his driving gloves and narrowed his eyes at the dashboard, as if the Bentley might be planning to thwart him, Crowley realised that his life was as ridiculous and human and beautiful and perfect as he could ever wish it to be. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading - I'd love to hear what you think. Comments are fuel for hungry authors!
> 
> I mentioned this in a comment but it occurred to me I should put it in the notes too: This is a love letter to my fellow chronic pain and illness people. I wanted to write a different kind of happy ever after. One for us. Where it’s possible to be happy and find love and acceptance. Where you can mourn what you lost or never had, but find joy too. I gave Crowley a story where he could have a fulfilling life without a “cure”, and I hope this story gives you a little rep, too.


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